


the long way forward

by taizi



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Families of Choice, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, The Fujiwaras continue to be too good for this world, chapter count is a guesstimate, kitanishi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2018-12-20 17:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11925600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taizi/pseuds/taizi
Summary: Satoru isn't human. For Atsushi, he wants to be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I knew when I met you an adventure was going to happen.  
> A.A. Milne, _Winnie the Pooh_

 Mother gave him a mask and a human shape, just for tonight. He's meant to be home before the last lantern goes out, but for now the street ahead is as bright as day, and a handful of yokai wave him off as he goes tripping over the grassy hill.

“Be careful, little magpie,” a faceless spirit warns him, keeping pace beside him with effortless sweeps of its many arms. “The goddess worries when you stray.”

“I just want to see,” Satoru protests, tying his mask into place quickly. “I’ve never been to a human festival!”

“You have seen many.”

“Flying over one isn’t the same. _You’re_ so old you’ve probably seen a bunch.”

“And you’re young enough yet that you haven’t learned the respect your elders are due,” the spirit says without heat, offering a derisive flick of one feathered ear. “One human festival is the same as the next. And once you’ve seen it, your curiosity will wane, and you will spare us this foolishness in the years to come.”

It disappears from his side at that point, and Satoru sticks his tongue out for no one’s benefit but his own. The ground is cool beneath his bare feet, and the money purse of shiny change he’s been saving throughout the year bounces against his hip, and he plunges into the crowd without a single look back at the dark mountain he came down from.

Satoru has heard that in the larger cities, the festivals are bigger and brighter, more lively with more bodies packed into the narrow streets and tight spaces -- but he finds it hard to believe that _anything_ could match the energy of this rural town. There are dancers and drummers, and more lights and smells and colors than he knows what to do with.

Satoru is about the same size as the handful of kids who greet him cheerfully and pull him into their game. His autumn orange yukata matches another girl’s, something she notes with sunny approval, and the boy beside her gleefully compares their masks.

“We’re going to get some food,” another boy says brightly, offering Satoru a hand. “Come with us!”

Satoru casts a glance at the lanterns, and then judges the position of the stars in the sky. He has plenty of time to eat and play, and see all there is to see. So he takes the boy's hand and lets himself be led into the thick of the human gathering, grinning widely for no one to see. He dodges the drunken stagger of a man who falls laughing into the arms of his friends, and sidesteps children even smaller than he is that go running by with dangling toys and handfuls of cotton candy.

He eats grilled squid off a stick, and pieces of takoyaki off a paper plate split four ways. They visit every stall for games, and Taki wins a goldfish, and Satoru keeps stumbling into people who only laugh and right him on his feet, because his wide eyes are trying to look at everything all at once.

When the fireworks start, the other children break away to rejoin their families. Satoru watches them go, and moves to the side of the street to get out of the way of the crowd. Everyone is heading out to a clear spot, settling back to look up into the clear sky, and Satoru keeps himself apart. He's no stranger to nighttime, and he's sung under a bright full moon once or twice -- but he doesn't know if he's fond of fireworks, those abrasive thunderclaps of color in the sky. Not when he was the creature he used to be, and not now. 

So he throws his cup of shaved ice away, and follows the lanterns back up the road. It was fun, he thinks, and he might like to come again next year. But it's time to go home. 

The mountain looms above him like a crouching giant as he moves back toward a shadowed grove of trees. "Welcome home, little one," someone greets him from the dark, their bright eyes glinting playfully. Satoru grins their way and hops a root sticking out of the ground with a spring in his step, thinking fondly of his hollow tree and the warm nest waiting for him inside. 

He doesn't get far before another voice calls out to him -- one much younger than anyone else Satoru is used to talking to in these woods, and more scared than Satoru is willing to let lie. He turns on his heel and hurries back the way he came, even though wisps of hands and fingers tighten on his arms and brush through his hair, try for whatever reason to hold him back. 

Satoru bursts into a clearing not far from the treeline, and finds the boy from the festival, the one who took his hand and invited him to play. The boy's eyes are wet with tears and his mouth trembles. He looks impossibly small next to the towering trees, fingers curled into his sleeves so tightly his knuckles stand out white. The nearby spirits borrow nighttime shadows to make themselves look bigger than they are, stretching and reaching above the child's head.

Satoru shoots them a scowl, irritated that they would try to frighten this little human who was so kind to him, and doubles his pace.

"It's okay, Atsushi," he soothes, hoping he sounds kind in turn as he hurries back to him. "Are you lost? I can show you the way home." 

The boy reaches for his hand as soon as he's near, and somehow it seems to lend him courage. All it takes is a touch, their fingers threading together warmly, and Atsushi rubs tears out of his eyes with the back of his free hand, even hitches up a lopsided smile, as though he hadn't been scared moments ago. Humans are _wonderful_ , Satoru thinks with awe. 

"When I came back to the spot we were playing, you were already gone," Atsushi tells him, clinging tightly to him as they walk back out of the woods. "But someone said they saw the boy in the bird mask go this way, so I tried to catch up with you."

"It's dangerous to come here if you don't know the way," Satoru says, guiding his companion's steps carefully over the protruding root. His heart races at the idea of what might have happened to Atsushi if one of Satoru's miserly neighbors found him first. "Promise me you won't anymore." 

"I won't," Atsushi agrees gamely. "You're really brave, Satoru, you don't even have a flashlight! You must know the forest really well." 

"Well, I live in it." A gentle wind greets them, rubbing through Satoru's hair as he leads Atsushi into the silver-washed field. "You can follow the road from here, right?"

Atsushi's hand around Satoru's tightens, and he says, "But I wanted you to watch the fireworks with me! I went and asked my mom if it was okay and everything! They only have fireworks tonight and the last night of the festival, and what if it rains then? You might not get to see them at all if you don't see them tonight!" 

"Even if I don't, you could just watch without me." Satoru isn't quite sure what the problem is. "You don't have to miss them just because I do."

"But I want to watch them with  _you,_ " Atsushi stresses, and frowns, as though there's something obvious here that Satoru is missing. "We're friends now, aren't we?" 

Someone behind Satoru whispers, "It's time to return, little magpie. The lanterns have gone out, and your mother is waiting for you." 

And Satoru should -- this form was a gift he was given, a privilege, and he should use it as he was told -- he  _knows_ he should. But Atsushi is watching him with wide, grave eyes, and he's holding Satoru's hand like he doesn't want to let go, and he said they were friends. Satoru has never been anyone's friend before. 

It might be worth it to make mother angry, he decides, braving a small step forward. It might be worth it to lose this shape and this privilege, and never see another human festival again until he's aged. It might be worth it, he thinks, because when he says, "I'd like to be your friend," Atsushi's whole face lights up like dawn, his mouth splitting into a wide, gap-toothed smile. 

"Then let's go!" Atsushi says, leading the way back to town at a run. "I know the  _best_ spot. It's a secret, but I'll show it to you, okay?"

The forest churns behind them with disapproval that Satoru is glad Atsushi can't hear. People laugh and stand aside to make way as the two small boys rush through the crowd, hand-in-hand. Fireworks are breaking open across the sky, filling the still summer air with noise and color.

Satoru is used to flying above everything and looking down. He thinks he could get used to looking up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this started as a prompt from milkteaghost on tumblr and rapidly expanded into a monster :') hopefully it'll be a fun ride !
> 
> title borrowed from [shelter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HQnC1UHBvWA) by porter robinson & madeon


	2. Chapter 2

“Satoru-chan,” Atsushi’s mother calls him kindly, “let me see you for a moment.”

Satoru carefully hands baby Mana back to her father, hops over Atsushi’s outstretched legs, and picks his way obediently across the cluttered playroom. Kitamoto’s mother ruffles his hair the moment he’s within arm’s reach, and then stands back to straighten his yukata.

“Atsushi has been bringing you home since the summer festival, but I only ever see you wearing the same thing,” she says, with a lightness in her tone that doesn’t match the worry in her eyes. Satoru tilts his head a bit to one side and studies her, and wonders what she has to worry about. “Don’t you have anything else to wear, little one?”

“I don’t,” he says plainly. And then, worried that it's too dirty for a place in her nice, clean house, he adds, “But I wash this one every night before I sleep!”

The worry in her eyes only gets bigger, and the side of her mouth tugs down into a frown. Before she can say anything else, Atsushi appears at their side. His small hand curls around Satoru’s smaller one, and he says, “Why didn’t you say so? You can borrow some of my clothes. I have lots!”

Satoru doesn’t think mother would like that, but he can’t bring himself to say so.

He’s been living in this world on borrowed time -- stealing out of the wood at dawn, and sneaking back through the fiery light of sunset in the evening. He’ll be found out eventually -- and he’ll be in _trouble_ once he’s been found out -- but every day Satoru spends in this place is another day he’s caught here, helplessly, like a rabbit in a snare.

Atsushi’s family is so inviting. They worry, and they fuss, and they laugh, and they never touch each other with cruelty. They don’t begrudge Satoru his temporary place at their dinner table, and stop asking him about his home and his family when the first time they do he panics and can’t come up with an answer, and they let him play with baby Mana as though he could never be a danger to her. 

Satoru might as well be a cuckoo in the nest here, an unwelcome intruder, but some days he feels as though he could belong with them if he really tried.

“Good idea,” Atsushi’s mother praises him. “Why don’t you go find something Satoru-chan can play in, while I get started on dinner?”

“Can we go to the park?” Atsushi asks quickly, and gets a fond nod in reply. He beams at Satoru and all but drags him down the hall, their joined hands swinging between them.

Humans are _warm._ Their bodies and their voices and their homes are all so warm. They’re alive in a way that nature is not, devouring every second in the day with a desperation that flowers and trees don’t feel. They’re so mortal, and they have so much to do before they’re gone, and somehow that doesn’t stop them from sharing their meals, and inviting strangers in out of the cold, and extending empathy to one another as easily as yokai have stolen souls.

Satoru _likes_ humans. He likes _his_ human. He wants to be here, in a way he has never wanted anything since the night the cat found the nest he was born in, and ate every nestling in it but him. His heart ached so fiercely then, tiny, fragile creature that he was, that the goddess of the forest found him. It aches so fiercely now he fears she might find him again.

He doesn’t want to leave this place.

“Satchan?” Atsushi is looking at him with a furrowed brow and a deep frown, and Satoru realizes they’ve stopped just outside his bedroom. Atsushi’s hand squeezes tighter around his. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m -- “ Satoru pauses. “‘Satchan’?”

“That’s you! It’s your nickname now,” Atsushi says, promptly forgetting his worry in the manner of a child. He grins brightly and adds, “Like the song!”

“The song?”

“I learned it at school. I can teach you the words while we play at the park if you want.”

Satoru nods eagerly, and helps Atsushi pick through play clothes to borrow. He pulls on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with a turtle on it, and then picks out the fluffiest hoodie in Atsushi’s closet as well. It’s so _cold_ to be without feathers, and his yukata isn’t very warm -- Satoru wished he’d asked for a jacket much sooner than this.

He’s about to tie his mask on again when Atsushi says, from behind him, “Why do you wear that all the time? You look like a character in a play. You could just leave it here for now, I promise I won’t let it get lost.”

As young as he is, the other yokai seem to take for granted how little he knows. Even mother didn’t explain as she handed him the mask, as though its importance was an inherent understanding.

Satoru makes a mental note to ask Kiyoshi when he returns home, and then turns to Atsushi with the mask in his hands and says, “Is it really okay?”

Atsushi stares at him with wide eyes, crossing the room to him quickly and taking the mask out of his hands, as though it’s an offer that might expire. “It’s okay,” he replies, putting the mask carefully on top of the folded yukata. “See? It can just sit right here until we come back.”

It’s hard to deny his human friend anything -- Satoru is only a guest in his world, and when he’s gone he will quickly be forgotten in face of everyone else Atsushi will meet and know and love in his life. Satoru will be a fleeting impression at best, but he wants to be a pleasant one.

So he smiles, and follows Atsushi out the door, and leaves the mask behind without a second thought.

There are kids at the park already, playing an odd-looking game of kicking their shoes up high into the air and then watching how they fall, but Atsushi leads Satoru to the empty swingset on the far side of the lot instead. Atsushi doesn't forget his promise and teaches Satoru the words to the nursery rhyme 'Satchan', about a boy whose childhood friend moves far away. Satoru memorizes the words, and hums the tune until he's sure he won't forget it, but he can't help feeling a little upset.

"You didn't tell me it was a sad song," he points out, and Atsushi blinks at him.

"I never thought it was," the boy says, looking thoughtful. "You're right, though. It doesn't sound like it, but the words are a little sad."

It's also a little _appropriate_ , Satoru thinks uneasily, and hopes Atsushi won't be lonely when he's gone. 

"If you're that worried about it, why don't we get married when we grow up?" Atsushi asks him, kicking himself back and forth slightly on his swing. "Mom says marriage is promising to spend your life with someone you love. If we got married, we'd never have to be apart, and the Satchan song wouldn't make you sad anymore!"

Satoru has no room to feel anything but touched. "We'd be together forever?"

"Forever," Atsushi says, with a determined nod. Satoru smiles at him, feeling like he could come apart with  _care_ for this little human. 

"That sounds nice." 

"Then let's promise!" Atsushi leans over from his swing, holding out his pinky finger. Satoru reaches out to hook his own pinky around Atsushi's, smile growing almost too big for his face. "We'll get married when we're grown up! No backing out, okay?"

Satoru will never have a chance to grow up with him. He isn't mortal, his time won't pass as swiftly. As a bird, he would have lived a tiny fraction of Atsushi's lifespan -- as a yokai, he'll live for hundreds of years after Atsushi is gone. They were never meant to be friends, never meant to cast more than a fleeting shadow in each other's paths. 

Wistfully, Satoru thinks that if he  _could_ grow up, he would like to spend those years with his friend. And even though it's impossible, he means it when he says, "When we grow up. I promise." 

It's a silly oath between children, but it settles in his soul. He remembers, belatedly, mother's reluctance to make even light-hearted promises, the cold way other yokai will turn their backs on him when he unthinkingly asks a promise of them. It hangs on his shoulders like a heavy coat, and it's a long moment before he acclimates to the unfamiliar sensation. It's something else to ask Kiyoshi about, he decides, and only pulls away from Atsushi when the streetlights start to flicker on. 

It's so  _easy_ to lose track of time as a human. How do they get everything done in such short days?

"It's time for me to go home," he says. "I don't have time to get my stuff from your house, so will you keep an eye on it for me?"

"Sure," Atsushi replies agreeably. "But are you  _sure_ you have to go? Mom's making omurice for dinner, I bet you haven't had that before." 

"I haven't," Satoru admits, longing. "But I'll have to try it another time. I don't want mother to get mad." 

"I guess not." Atsushi hops out of his swing and gives him a hug. "I'll meet you at our spot tomorrow morning, then, okay? See you, Satchan!" 

Satoru smiles with a sneaking mischief, and sweetly says, "See you, Acchan!" 

Atsushi sputters and Satoru takes off with a laugh, jumping the rail and taking the road at a run. The grassy hill waves like wheat in the wind, beckoning him home, and he slips into the shadow of the sheltered grove of trees as easily as he steps out into the sun in the morning. Right away, his smile fades. The unnatural silence sets his teeth on edge. 

No one is there to greet him, even in passing. He dares venture a few more steps in his borrowed sneakers, and then his courage fails him. 

"Hello?" he asks the wood, pulse racing in his own ears. 

 _"So it_ is  _you, and not some mortal's child lost in our wood,"_ a cruel voice whispers from somewhere behind him. Satoru doesn't whirl around -- in the mood they're in now, the yokai won't make themselves visible to him. He's only been in this much trouble a handful of times, and he does his best not to cower under the combined weight of his neighbors' disapproval.  _"Where is your mask, magpie?  Where have you been? Why do you smell so_ human?"

"I've been playing," Satoru says defensively. He hides his hands behind his back, to better pretend they aren't shaking. "The human town is fun. There's a lot of interesting things to do." 

 _"He is just a baby bird,"_ a smoother voice puts in, _"we have to forgive him his flights of fancy."_

 _"But he comes back changed! He is different than when he left us at dawn."_ A snout emerges from the dark, snuffling wetly at Satoru's clothes.  _"There is something -- something -- "_

It reels from him with a shriek of rage, and Satoru flinches back, stumbling over a root in the ground and falling. "What?" he demands, trembling. "What's wrong with you?"

 _"With_ me?" the yokai demands, whirling on him. It looms, like the giant cat that once tried to eat him when he was only days out of his egg, and Satoru wants his wings back, wants to fly far away from this angry creature and its white teeth. As it is he can only hide behind his arms and pray the older spirit gets bored of him soon. _"You've made an oath! With a_ human!"

"It -- it doesn't matter," Satoru says, "it's impossible, so it doesn't -- "

With another shriek, it lunges forward, and snatches Satoru up by the scruff in its jaw. Satoru barely has time to whimper before light washes the clearing like a small, silvery sun, and all the spirits hiding in the dark pull back and away from Satoru as though they've been burned. Satoru is dropped back to the ground with a painful thump, and scrambles toward the light as fast as he can, half-blind with terrified tears.

Gentle hands lift him up off the ground, cool to the touch as they sweep fringe back from his eyes. _"I had hoped,"_ a powerful voice says calmly, _"that everyone in this wood was aware of what might happen to them, if they dared lay a hand on one of my children."_

It's their turn to shuffle, shamefaced and uncertain, and Satoru clings to mother's kimono with shaking hands. 

 _"I spoil this one,"_ she admits affectionately, petting Satoru's hair, _"because he's clever and funny, and brightens our days with his chatter. But despite that, his mistakes are honest ones. He still has much to learn about how to navigate this world alone. It is not your place,"_ she adds, with a sharp edge,  _"to punish him for wrongdoing. And if you forget your place, I might forget you have one here at all."_

The yokai scatter quickly, but Satoru can tell mother needs a moment to calm herself. He leans against her, and she holds him close.

_"It seems as though I can't let you out of my sight for very long at all, can I, little one?"_

"I didn't mean to," Satoru is quick to tell her. "I didn't know. The human was kind and the promise was so small. I didn't -- "

_"I know you didn't, Satoru. The fault is mine -- I should have taught you the things you would need to know. Forgive me."_

She waves her fingers, and Satoru's human shape blows away into her hand, and Satoru feels bereft in a way he can't explain as it goes. He has only known that form for a short time, but it's already so important -- without it, Atsushi won't be able to see him. The only way Satoru can appear to the human now is as a noisy, unlikable bird, and Atsushi still won't  _know_ him. 

Atsushi won't recognize him, won't smile at him anymore, and Satoru _hurts_ at that, hurts in a way he didn't know was possible. 

Mother doesn't seem to notice. She cards a hand through his hair again and says, _"All will be well, now that you're back where you belong."_

But I'm supposed to meet my friend tomorrow, Satoru can't find the courage to tell her. He allows himself to be guided further into the forest instead, aching with every step. 


	3. Chapter 3

There’s an old dirt road on the outskirts of town, and they always met at the crooked juncture halfway between the forest and the lotus field. Atsushi waits for Satoru there the next morning, and the next three mornings after that. On the fifth, his mother is waiting with him. On the sixth, he isn’t there at all.

A full week after he has last seen his friend, Satoru lights upon a telephone pole above the empty street, ducks his head against a bitter wind, and does his very best not to cry.

“I thought you said you were flying into town to tease the cats,” Kiyoshi says mildly, perching beside Satoru. Their shoulders bump, and his presence is warm and unobtrusive, and Satoru feels the hot prick of tears despite his efforts. “This doesn’t look like that.”

Satoru has never been capable of a decent lie. Kiyoshi _knows_ he’s never been capable of a decent lie. The acknowledgement passes between them as plainly as a shared nod.

A worried Kiyoshi has been tailing Satoru ever since the messy night mother brought him home. They aren’t really brothers -- Satoru’s siblings are all gone and Kiyoshi _looks_ different, a sleek raptor with a curved beak and sharp talons -- but mother took them both in and raised them together, and they’re brothers in all the ways that matter. One of the places Satoru has always felt safest is the hollow tree he shares with Kiyoshi, when he’s tucked against the older spirit’s side through the darkest parts of night.

His brother is trusted with important tasks, and probably has much better things to do than babysit a moping magpie, but he’s spent his last few days doing exactly that regardless. Now he folds his arms tightly, agitated.

“What about this human has you so enamored? How could it have left any meaningful impression on you? What could it have offered?”

It’s nice to feel something other than sad. Satoru embraces the indignation that sweeps through him and scowls at the older yokai, though he imagines the effect is somewhat lessened by the wetness in his eyes.

“Why does it always come back to that? What could _anyone_ have that I would want enough to stay by their side, when all I need is food and sky and a place to play?” He swipes at his eyes furiously. “He doesn’t have to give me anything. It’s not _like_ that. It’s not -- “

“Okay,” Kiyoshi says, “then what is it?”

But there aren’t words to describe it -- the happy feeling of _belonging_ even though he was all but a stranger _,_ the warmth of Atsushi and his family and their honest smiles, the way he was always welcome in their home --

“It was fun,” Satoru tells him, that newly familiar ache opening like a blister in the pit of his soul. “It was so much fun.”

“You’re such a child,” his brother says derisively, without any real heat. “You don’t even know what it is that you want, do you? What you would be giving up, what you would be putting yourself through? You just want to have a good time.”

“Why _shouldn’t_ I?” Satoru looks at him plaintively. “I don’t understand. Why _shouldn’t_ I do what will make me happy?”

Kiyoshi hesitates. “It’s not as simple as that.”

“It should be.” Satoru shakes the heavy hands of gloom off his back and stands with a mighty stretch. His eyes still burn but there are no more tears threatening to leak out, and he’s never been one to sit still for very long anyway. “Tell mother you haven’t seen me. I’ll be home late again.”

“Where are you going?” Kiyoshi asks of him suspiciously.

“I’m going to find my friend!”

He won’t know it’s me, Satoru thinks, winging through the air and leaving his aggrieved sibling behind, but I can at least check on him, wherever he is, and make sure he’s okay.

Except that Atsushi isn’t at any of the places he usually goes to play. Satoru flies all the way to the Kitamoto house, and flutters to a landing on the kitchen windowsill. The window is open, emitting food smells and warmth, so he boldly hops in.

Atsushi’s mother is working with her back to the window, and Mana is in her baby chair, but Atsushi’s father and Atsushi himself are nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, Satoru shuffles his wings, and that’s when Atsushi’s mother turns toward the sink and catches sight of him.

“Oh!” She looks as shocked as any human might be at the sudden appearance of a bird in her kitchen. “Well aren’t you a nosy thing?”

Satoru offers her an affectionate squawk. It makes her smile, and she hesitates to shoo him away.

“Well, magpie-san,” she says, “I’m happy to see you. With my son in the hospital, I could use all the good luck you have to spare.” Her eyes, already puffy and red, fill with fresh tears. “What on earth was he doing out in the woods by himself?”

The hospital? The woods?

Satoru hardly notices when she waves him off, numb to his very center. He loses hold of his physical form mid-flight, and runs home at speeds no mortal creature could match, and cradles an icy fear in his heart with every single step.

Stupid, stubborn Acchan! He promised, he _promised_ he wouldn’t go into the wood by himself, Satoru thinks, furious or sad or _something_ that’s ripping into his chest like sharp nails. It’s dangerous for soft, fragile little humans that don’t know the way!

But it isn’t fair to be angry, not when Satoru made a promise, too.

Crashing through the forest gracelessly, Satoru focuses on the warm white light that is his mother, refuses to see anything or anyone else that might be in his way.

She’s talking to a handful of yokai when Satoru finds her, Kiyoshi among them, and Satoru’s brother looks alarmed as Satoru shoves his way through the crowd.

“Mother,” he demands, loud and fierce and trembling head to toe, “give me back my human shape.”

She looks him over slowly, and waves a hand. The yokai gathered around her disperse in the blink of an eye, only Kiyoshi staying behind. He’s a shade paler than usual, and hurries over to snatch at Satoru’s hoodie.

“He’s just upset,” Kiyoshi is saying quickly, “you know how he gets, mother. He didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“I need it!” Satoru says right over him. “Please!”

“That’s not how you _talk_ to her!”

“I don’t care! I’ll do whatever you want, mother,” he pleads, hardly managing to form words around the painful knot in his chest, “I’ll -- give me a task! Like one of your human followers! Give me a task, with my human shape as my reward!”

Kiyoshi is looking at him as though he’s never seen him before, and mother tilts her head to one side curiously. Her eyes are still warm, despite his rudeness, and in the back of his mind Satoru is glad he’s not grown up yet and can still get away with things Kiyoshi no longer can.

“Why?” she asks a moment later.

For my _friend,_ he wants to wail. For _Atsushi_ , because he’s _hurt_ , Satoru doesn’t even know _how_ hurt, and it’s all Satoru’s fault. Because Satoru needs to see him, to say sorry, to offer whatever he can to make up for it, to _fix_ this nice thing they shared that he ruined so completely.

But mother won’t care about a human. She isn’t as infatuated with them, and their fleeting days that are so busy and full, and the lovely, chaotic way they experience the world.

Luckily, Satoru knows what she _will_ care about. For whatever reason, as it still hasn’t been explained to him, oaths are very serious. And Satoru has the good fortune of having made one.

“I made a promise, mother,” he says, hopeful heart in his throat. “I have to keep it.”

Kiyoshi is very still beside him, fingers digging painfully into his arm. Mother suddenly looks much older. She sighs, and doesn’t smile, and says, “Yes, you do. Very well.” And then, before Satoru has a chance to feel any relief at her concession, “How many human coins have you hidden away, little magpie?”

Satoru blinks, and it takes him a long moment to switch tracks and puzzle out her sudden question.

“Money? Only a few hundred yen. I don’t have much left after the harvest festival.”

“Bring them to me.”

He shoots a confused look at his brother and then hurries to their hollow tree where all his treasures are stashed. It’s less than a minute away with how quickly he runs there, and he leans inside the tree to snatch up his purse from the bed of crushed grass and leaves.

Mother and Kiyoshi are talking quietly when Satoru returns, and they break off as he breathlessly thrusts the purse towards them.

There are five coins inside. Mother hums as she counts them into her palm. “Your brother has given me six human coins already, and with this that makes eleven.” She folds her fingers around the money and tucks her hands into her sleeves. “I will give you one year for each.”

Satoru gapes at her. It's more than he could have _dreamed_ for. “A whole _year?_ Really?”

“Really. You have eleven years to fulfill your promise. Will it be enough?”

“Yes! It will! Mother, thank you!” He can feel tears spring to his eyes again and rushes forward to hug her. “ _T_ _hank you!”_

Her hand settles in his hair. She sounds sad. “I can give you a human shape, but I cannot give you a human home, or a human family. You will be on your own. It will be hard, and it will be scary, and it will be lonely. Is this really what you want, little one?”

Satoru hardly hears the question, thrumming with excitement as he is. He leans back to smile at her and says, “I’ll be fine, I promise!”

Kiyoshi looks aggrieved. “Enough with the promises, Satoru, this is how you got yourself into this mess.” But his eagle eyes are soft as he touches the side of Satoru’s face. “Be careful, you silly bird. You won’t have me to get you out of trouble anymore.”

Satoru looks from him to their mother and says, “But I’ll still be able to see you, won’t I?”

She draws away from him, and Kiyoshi falls into step beside her. “Only if you look,” are her parting words, as faint as morning fog. “Good luck, Satoru.”

And they leave him there, alone on the mountain. He can tell he’s human again by the way cold comes creeping in, and he shivers at the bitter wind that bears down on him -- but he’s smiling as he takes off at a run through these looming trees he knows so well, practically weightless with all his high hopes.

Eleven years to be Atsushi's friend! And he's going to make the absolute most of every minute. 


	4. Chapter 4

The woods are bigger than Satoru remembers, and it’s harder to see at night than he’s used to. The heavy overhang of trees and their leafy canopy block out both the moonlight and the stars Satoru could have used as a map.

It's very dark. He’s trembling. The back of his neck is prickling, his heart racing with something more than exertion.

When Satoru thinks of fear, he thinks of the cat that found his nest, its gaping jaws and gleaming white teeth. He doesn’t think of the mountain at night, the mountain that has been home and playground and resting place to him for as long as he can remember.

And yet every sound has Satoru looking for danger, wide-eyed in this pitch darkness. It’s a long walk back through the forest, these short legs not built for sprinting or flying past the trees the way Satoru is used to.

It’s cold, too. He huddles in the heavy hoodie he borrowed from Atsushi, but even it doesn’t do much to stop the wind from biting, or the chill from creeping in and settling against his skin. The cold only gets worse when he trips over a root and sprawls forward into a small creek.

He’s exhausted by the time he makes it to the edge of the wood -- his feet hurt and his legs feel rubbery and he’s so relieved to see the lights of the town ahead that his chest _aches._ He half wants to fall down and just rest where he is for awhile, in the tall grass of this weathered field.

But Atsushi is waiting for him. Satoru urges his body to keep moving.

He should know the way to Atsushi’s house, shouldn’t he? But the town is larger than he remembers, and roads are a little confusing, and he ends up going in circles instead of making any sort of progress.

He manages to find the playground Atsushi took him to, but he can’t find the spot in the road where they used to wait for each other even though he _must_ have passed it, and it’s late enough in the evening that most people who live in this small town are inside for the night.

The playground is empty when he sits on the bottom of a slide, and Satoru hugs himself to stave off as much of the persistent cold as he’s able.

Satoru lived for mere hours as a bird before he became a yokai. He’s worn his human disguise but he’s never truly _been_ human. And it’s -- disconcerting, how hard it is to keep his thoughts in order when he’s hungry and hurting and tired and lost.

He can feel his eyes start to burn with helpless tears as much as he struggles not to cry. Atsushi is here somewhere, but Satoru doesn’t know where to find him. It’s dark and he doesn’t know where he is or what to do, and he’s still so cold.

He was a bird, and then he was a spirit, but now he’s a mortal child. He gives into tears before he can help it.

He wants to cry for his brother, but he knows Kiyoshi won’t come.

“Now, what’s this?” an unfamiliar voice says, after minutes or maybe hours. “Are you hurt?”

Satoru lifts watery eyes out of his hands and looks up -- and up -- into the face of an adult he’s never seen before. He has brown hair and dark eyes, and a face lined with a long life of smiles. A kind human, Satoru can tell at a glance, and for some reason the kindness is enough to make him want to cry more.

The man sets aside a briefcase and slides out of his long overcoat. In nothing but a smart suit the cold night air will get to him quickly, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it as he wraps the coat around Satoru’s much smaller shoulders.

“There you go,” he says, as though it’s no problem that the bottom will drag on the ground and get dirty. “Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Satoru.”

“What about your family name?”

Satoru rubs his face on the collar of the coat and says, “I don’t have one of those.”

After a brief pause, the man says, “I see. Is there someone waiting for you at home? Someone you can call to come and get you?”

The thought of Atsushi is enough to make fresh tears well up in his eyes. “Yes, but -- I got lost, and -- “

A hand lands gently on his head, and the man says, “There’s no need to cry anymore, Satoru. We can use the phone at my house and get you back to where you belong. We can get you warmed up and find you something to eat while we’re at it. How does that sound?”

It sounds wonderful, and Satoru takes the hand the man offers him immediately. For all that he’s a stranger, Satoru feels much safer already, and he even gets to keep the large coat on as they walk.

The streets are no less confusing, but the man knows where he’s going. Near the edge of town there is a large, warmly lit house, and a woman waiting for them by the gate.

She brightens when she sees them coming, and then her face folds into a pout. “There you are! You said you’d be home _early_ today, I was beginning to worry about you!”

“You worry so easily, Touko-san,” the man replies fondly. “As it so happens, I brought a guest with me for dinner.”

The woman has spotted Satoru already, and is crouched in front of him before the man can finish speaking. The playfulness is gone from her expression in favor of stark concern, and she touches the side of Satoru’s face with a soft hand.

“You poor thing,” she says, “are you lost?” She takes in his tear-sticky face and the dampness of his clothes under the man’s long coat, and goes on before Satoru can answer. “Come inside, let’s get you cleaned up. Do you like sukiyaki?”

Satoru trades the man’s hand for Touko-san’s, and lets himself be led into the light and warmth of their house. In a manner of minutes, he’s sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in a fluffy towel, with a steaming bowl in front of him. He feels warmer than he’s ever felt, and tucks into the food quickly, trying to get some of that warmth inside his empty, aching stomach.

“There’s plenty more, Satoru,” Touko says cheerfully, as though she’s delighted to have an extra mouth to feed. “Eat as much as you want. Shigeru-san, you need to sit and eat, too.”

Shigeru is smiling as he sits down, but he doesn’t reach for the hot pot. “Satoru, we need to know what you were doing outside by yourself,” he says.

Satoru struggles to swallow a big mouthful of tofu, and then gulps at the glass of water Touko gives him. Both the adults are looking a little worried by how eagerly he’s snapping up the food, so Satoru tries to slow down.

“I’m looking for my friend Acchan,” he says, and his eyes drop to the table. Reminded of why he’s here and what he’s supposed to be doing, dinner doesn’t taste so good anymore. “I can’t find him, though.”

“‘Acchan’?” Touko says, then folds her hands together. “Oh! Mikako-san has a boy about your age named Atsushi! Could that be who you mean? Kitamoto Atsushi?”

Satoru looks up quickly, hope written on every inch of his face. “That’s Acchan!”

Shigeru stands, and ruffles Satoru’s hand on his way around the table. “I have the Kitamotos’ number written down somewhere,” he says. “I’ll give them a call. Just put something aside for me if you would, Touko-san.”

As he goes upstairs to his study to find the number and make the call, Touko sits down across from Satoru and finishes dinner with him. They make a bowl for Shigeru, and then Satoru helps clean the dishes, and when Shigeru comes back downstairs he steers Satoru into the sitting room to watch TV.

He and Touko talk quietly in the kitchen, and somehow the sound of them close by is soothing. Satoru would rather listen to their unintelligible conversation than puzzle out the TV remote. After all that warm food, sitting in a quiet, comfortable room makes it hard for Satoru to keep his eyes open. He _wants_ to -- he has to be awake to see Acchan -- but he was tired when he got here, and he’s only more tired now.

He’s nodding before he can help it, sinking forward against the table.

When he wakes up, he only wakes up a little bit. The house is dark, and he’s being held against Shigeru’s chest as the man carries him somewhere. He knows it’s Shigeru; he smells like the nice coat he let Satoru wear when Satoru was scared and cold.

"Poor little thing," Touko murmurs nearby. "He's exhausted." 

"The officer I spoke to told us to keep him comfortable for the night," her husband says quietly. "There's nothing more we can do for him until the morning." 

A door slides open, and Shigeru sets Satoru down on a futon with unending care. Touko helps extract Satoru from his dirty clothes and into a dry shirt with long sleeves that falls well past his knees, and only then is he allowed to lay down. The mattress is soft, and so is the thick duvet that's drawn up to his chin, and Satoru is asleep again almost immediately.

Touko’s gentle voice telling him goodnight is the last thing he’s aware of.


	5. Chapter 5

Satoru is slow to wake. He comes out of sleep slowly, stirring beneath the gentle, insistent hand on his shoulder, and finally manages to peel his eyes open after what feels like an hour.

“There you are,” Touko says brightly, smiling through quiet worry in her eyes. “Good morning, Satoru! You must have been tired to sleep for so long.”

“Mm,” he mumbles, rubbing at his gummy eyes with the heel of his hand. He doesn’t remember _ever_ waking up and feeling so -- muddy and disoriented. Heavy. It’s awful. But Touko is very nice, he likes her a lot, so he musters up a smile. “Good morning.”

He doesn’t quite remember where he is until he’s had a minute to sit there, blinking dolefully. He looks down at himself, in a borrowed shirt to sleep in, on a futon in an unfamiliar room -- and then it all comes rushing back.

I got lost, Satoru remembers, the thought thready with panic. I’m supposed to find Atsushi. What do I do?

Touko puts a hand in his hair. “Now, there’s nothing to worry about,” she chides without heat. “And nothing to talk about, either, until you’ve eaten a big breakfast.”

Which is how Satoru finds himself at the kitchen table in his freshly laundered jeans and hoodie, working his way through a full-course meal that tastes better than anything he’s ever eaten before. He feels much better than he did the last time he sat here.  

“When can I see Acchan?” Satoru asks Touko-san when she leans over to refill his cup. He’s probably asked half a dozen time since she took his hand to lead him downstairs, but she only smiles, infinitely patient, and brushes the untidy fringe out of his eyes with gentle fingers.

“Soon, little one,” she says affectionately. “His parents promised to bring him over the moment he woke up.”

She’s barely finished talking when a familiar voice calls at the front door. Shigeru gets up from the kitchen table and ruffles Satoru’s hair on his way out into the entrance hall.

Satoru hears the front door rattle open. There’s a flurry of voices, an aborted greeting, and thumping feet on the hardwood. Satoru turns in his chair, and much sooner than he was ready for, he finds himself face to face with Atsushi.

Atsushi looks as rumpled as if he rolled right out of bed and ran all the way here. There are bandages on his arm, disappearing from his elbow up under his short sleeve toward his shoulder, but he’s okay. He’s right here. He’s panting, little shoulders heaving, and his brown eyes are bright and wide and staring right at Satoru like he’s afraid to look away for even a second after what happened _last_ time he did.

Satoru stares right back at him. The scared and lonely feeling from last night is creeping back inside him, washing out the comfortable warmth he found in this nice house. His face starts to crumple toward tears.

“Acchan,” he says, but it wobbles and doesn’t come out right, and now his eyes are all wet, and he feels so _bad_.

He wants to apologize, he wants to make this right -- and there’s _so_ much to make up for -- but he doesn’t get a chance to try again. Suddenly Atsushi is rushing the last handful of steps between them. Satoru’s face is smushed against Atsushi’s shoulder before he even has a chance to stand up, Atsushi’s arms wrapped around him so hard it almost hurts.

“They said you got lost,” Atsushi says thickly, holding him tight. “It’s not your fault! I’m not mad! And I’ll look after you better from now on, okay? I won’t ever let you get lost again.”

Somewhere behind him, the familiar voice -- Atsushi’s dad -- is telling Touko with fond amusement, “With a new baby sister at home, he’s very responsible now.”

Touko sighs. “That’s so cute.”

But Satoru doesn’t care about anything but his friend, who keeps hugging him, and keeps promising everything’s okay, and all of it’s a little more than he knows what to do with. He’s cried more in the last week than he thinks he has in the whole rest of his life, but somehow he hasn’t run out of tears yet.

There’s a grown-up Satoru doesn’t know standing with the three that he does, in a neat uniform with a hat in his hands. He comes over with a pleasant smile to kneel beside Satoru’s chair only after Atsushi lets go of him.

“Satoru-kun,” the man greets him, “my name is Genta, and I’m a friend of Hakaru’s.” At Satoru’s uncomprehending blink, he chuckles and amends, “I’m a friend of Atsushi’s father. You and Atsushi seem to be good friends, too. You met at the summer festival, is that right?”

“Yes,” Satoru says. “I’ve never been to a festival before, but Atsushi and Taki and Tsuji were nice and showed me how to play the games.”

“I see,” Genta says easily. “I’m glad you had a good time. It must have been a trip to make, coming down from the mountain like that. Atsushi told us you lived up there. You never got lost before?”

Satoru’s first reaction is to laugh, because the idea is so silly. The mountain isn’t _that_ big, and he’s lived on it for years and years -- how could he get lost in the woods that were his playground and his home?

But then he remembers that he _did_ get lost -- that as a human child, the trees seemed much taller, and the shadows felt insidious, and the cold numbed his fingers and toes. It was hard to see, and his heart thumped painfully in his chest every time a heavy wind leaned through the trees, and his little legs tired so quickly.

It was miserable. And scary. Satoru folds his arms tightly, mouth set in a firm line so he doesn’t cry again.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Genta tells him kindly, leaning forward a little. “You’re okay now. I just have a few more questions, and then I’ll let you and Atsushi go play, alright?”

Atsushi’s hand slips into his and squeezes. It makes Satoru have to unfold his arms, but it reminds him that his friend is close by, and then he doesn’t feel quite as upset anymore. He rubs his face with his sleeve, just to make sure no new tears had slipped out, and nods.

Genta smiles at him again. “Thank you, Satoru-kun. I need to know about your family now. You have a mother, is that right?”

“And a big brother,” he says, missing Kiyoshi fiercely. “They’re not my first family -- my first family died a long time ago -- but they took care of me anyway.”

Touko breathes in softly, a sudden, pained sound. Shigeru puts an arm around her shoulders and trades a dark look with Atsushi’s father that Satoru doesn’t really understand. Genta’s expression wavers, too, something worried slipping through the pleasant smile.

“I see,” he says, and then doesn’t say anything for a long moment, rotating his hat between his hands thoughtfully. “Hakaru tells me you’ve been lost for a little over a week, but we didn’t get any calls at the station reporting a missing child. Isn’t your mother or your brother worried about you?”

“Oh, no,” Satoru says. “They’re gone now. It’s just me.”

And he wants to tell these nice people that it’s what he asked for -- wants to tell them about his brother’s affectionate hand on his face and how reluctantly he said goodbye, his mother telling him “good luck” and how it was as close to a blessing as she could give him -- but he doesn’t think they’ll understand.  

They’re visibly upset at this point, Hakaru and Touko both murmuring too quietly for Satoru to make out, and Genta stands up again and turns away to talk to Shigeru in soft undertones. Atsushi tugs on their joined hands to get Satoru’s attention.

“It’s not just you,” he says, stubborn. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I know that,” Satoru tells him, “that’s why I came.”

Genta does a few more things before he leaves -- he takes a photo of Satoru, still sleep-rumpled from tumbling out of bed hardly an hour ago, and presses the pads of Satoru’s fingers one at a time to a little ink pad and then to a clean square of paper. The impressions they leave are interesting, little white whorls that Genta calls his fingerprints, and Satoru studies them while Touko wipes his hands clean on a cloth.   

“I’ll see if I can match him in the system,” Genta is saying to Hakaru and Shigeru, “but there aren’t any missing persons in the wider area that match his age or description. I’ll organize a search team to try to find where he might have been living, but odds are good that the people who left him there are gone by now.“

“I understand,” Shigeru says in a heavy voice. “Whoever would do this to a child is undeserving of one in the first place.”

“Agreed. But I’m still hoping I find something -- a relative, maybe, _someone._ He’s a bright kid, and brave, too. I would hate for him to have to grow up in an institution.”

Satoru isn’t really following -- the grown ups left the pad and notebook unattended, and he and Atsushi are pressing pieces of ink-covered rice and orange rinds to the pages in silly shapes. Touko isn’t paying attention, looking over them at Shigeru as if she’s saying all she needs to say with that look.

“Keep me updated, if you can,” Shigeru says. “This house is more than big enough for three.”

Genta’s whole face warms with his smile, and he reaches over to shake Shigeru’s hand for some reason. Hakaru looks pleased, too, and Touko is folding her hands over her heart in something like relief.

Then they all glance down at the table almost as one, and Touko says, “Oh, you two!”

Satoru is familiar with that tone from all the mischief he would get up to as a bird and as a spirit both -- he looks up with a toothy grin, Atsushi giggling beside him, and Hakaru says, “Well, what can we expect, we’ve kept them cooped up this long.”

“Go out and play, boys,” Shigeru says, “but stay close, and _try_ to keep out of trouble.”

“And go easy on your arm, Atsushi,” Hakaru adds.

Some of Satoru’s cheer fades at the reminder of the hurt he inadvertently caused his friend, but Atsushi doesn’t give him more than a split second to think about it. He snatches up Satoru’s hand, shouts a quick goodbye, and leads the way out of the room at a run.

They stop in the genkan for their shoes, lean on each other as they wrestle them on, and then tug open the sliding door and rush outside into the bright afternoon sun.

“Don’t worry, Satchan,” Atsushi says with all the certainty of a five year old boy, “the grown-ups will take care of everything. I bet my mom and dad would let you live with us, even though I have a new sister. You can just share my room!”

Satoru smiles at him, buoyed along by his enthusiasm, and says, “I don’t care where I live, as long as I can still see you all the time!”

It’s the right thing to say when it lights Atsushi up the way it does, all bright eyes and gap-toothed smile too big for his round face. They play for what feels like forever, all the way up until Touko calls them back inside for lunch, and they all eat together in the sitting room because the kitchen table wasn’t big enough for everyone.

Not long after that, Genta leaves with a round of pleasant goodbyes, and ruffles Satoru’s hair on his way out. Atsushi looks mullish when his father gets up, and Hakaru laughs.

“Don’t worry, kiddo, we’re not going home yet. I’m just going to borrow the phone,” he says, and Atsushi relaxes again, without the good grace to look abashed when the adults all chuckle.

Hakaru must have called Atsushi’s mother, because she arrives soon after with baby Mana in her arms and a flustered air about the rest of her. Hakaru waves Touko back into her seat and rises to greet his wife at the door himself. She’s already in the entry hall, calling out, “Excuse the intrusion! Honey, you should have called me _ages_ ago!”

“You didn’t have to _run_ here, Mikako,” Hakaru scolds her. “I told you, everything’s fine. Give me Mana before you fall over.”

After that, the woman is out of her shoes and across the hall in seconds, framed in the doorway and scanning the room for just as long as it takes her to find Satoru, sitting next to Atsushi at the low table with a piece of cake in his hand and frosting smeared on his cheek.

“Satoru-chan,” she says on an exhale, a gust of relief. She drops to her knees beside him and hugs him, tight and warm and nice -- and then starts squeezing until he laughs and kisses the top of his head. “We were so worried about you, silly boy.”

“Sorry,” he says, smiling up at the lady who always made him feel welcome in her house. “I got lost.”

“Well, you’re not lost anymore,” she says decisively. “You’re right where you belong -- isn’t that right, Atsushi?”

“Right!” he says through a mouthful of shortcake.

“Oh, Touko, Shigeru, forgive me,” Mikako says a minute later, blushing, “I didn’t even say hello, that was so rude.”

Shigeru chuckles, and Touko waves a hand. “Don’t be silly,” the latter says brightly. She seems really happy with so much company, lighting up a little more with every new person that comes in to visit. “Have some cake, there’s plenty!”

Atsushi’s family doesn’t leave until well after dinner, when Mana starts getting fussy. His parents both kiss Satoru on the head, and Atsushi hugs him hard when it’s his turn for a goodbye, and promises to see him again in the morning. He has to be all but dragged away, and waves and waves as he goes.

Satoru waves back until he’s out of sight. He helps clean up, and takes a bath, and then Touko tucks him into a futon between hers and Shigeru's, and sleep comes upon him like a creeping creature, pleasant and warm. 

Over the next two weeks, he sees Atsushi a lot, and meets Taki and Tsuji again when Touko takes him and Atsushi to play at the park. He carries the laundry basket for Touko, and dries the dishes while she washes them, and listens to Shigeru tell stories about his coworkers and family at dinner. Genta comes to visit several times, and asks questions, and never gets mad when Satoru doesn't know the answers. Shigeru is busy doing a lot of paperwork in his study, sometimes with a phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, having complicated conversations that involve Satoru's name.

Satoru doesn't know what work Shigeru is doing, but it sounds important. He helps Touko bring Shigeru tea and snacks, balancing the tray carefully in both hands on his way into the study, and Shigeru always pauses long enough to smile and say thank you.

"Why don't you stay and help me with these?" the man will say, indicating the cookies with a conspiring wink. And Satoru will happily bounce into the extra chair that gravitated into the room and keep Shigeru company until Touko calls him downstairs to help with chores, or Atsushi calls him outside to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet you thought you'd seen the last of me ;)


End file.
